


Shenanigans

by Whitaker C Sour (slowmobanana)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Parody, Satire, Sitcom, it's like brooklynn nine nine but with the achievement hunters at the office and less funny, office!AU, situational comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24085723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowmobanana/pseuds/Whitaker%20C%20Sour
Summary: The wacky and wild misadventures of Rooster Teeth's Achievement Hunter office.
Relationships: Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones, Trevor Collins/Barbara Dunkelman
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> It's a SitCom! I've been watching Brooklynn Nine Nine and also I wanted to write something just silly and fun because I take writing too seriously sometimes. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!

With an unyielding windup, Gavin whipped the ball across the room, against the wall as hard as he could; “ _ Moonball _ !”

The ball hit the wall, hit the ceiling, hit the ground, hit something Gavin didn’t see, another thing Gavin didn’t see, and then embedded itself into Trevor’s monitor, smack dab in the centre. The screen shattered, carving a resounding hole in the middle of the glass. Dead, the moonball dropped from the desk and rolled across the ground, resting finally under Ryan’s chair.

Michael raised his eyes over his monitor, narrowly peering at the damage before turning his gaze to Gavin. “What the fuck, Gavin? What the  _ fuck _ did you do?”

“Oh,  _ no _ ,” Gavin whispered into the hands cupped over his mouth, occasionally throwing glances over his shoulder to make sure Trevor hadn’t suddenly teleported into the room. “ _ Oh, no. _ ”

Matt rolled back his chair, leaning back until to inspect the damage. “Good luck,” he said and he rolled back to work.

“I can’t believe…” Gavin’s hands were in his hair. “Oh,  _ no _ !”

“What else did we expect to happen?” Michael steepled his fingers, leaning backwards in his chair and shaking his head. “What else would we expect to happen? Of  _ course _ something would break!”

Gavin turned to Michael with a hand over his mouth, unable to help the weird nervous-squealing-laugh thing only dogs could hear. “You have to help me, Michael. I have to replace Trevor’s monitor before he finds out, or he’ll fire me!”

“He’ll definitely not fire you.”

“No, of course not,” Gavin muttered before gesturing widely through the air. “but he’ll think I’m a piece of shit for the rest of our lives!”

Michael smiled and it was only sarcastic. “Yeah, everyone already thinks you're a piece of shit, Gavin. One broken monitor isn’t going to change that.”

“Michael!”

“Fine!” He whipped his phone out of his pocket. “We’ll go to IT and see if they got any replacement monitors. I mean, it’s a fucking Dell. We gotta have a bazillion of those, right?”

* * *

“Trevor. Dessert.” Geoff held the cards in the air, ones he had pulled from two hats, and turned it so the audience could see.

He sat up on the lunchroom table, with most of the Achievement Hunter office gathered around. He was drawing cards out of hats and Jack was recording them on a giant whiteboard behind him. The audience was tense, save for Trevor, who gasped like he’d won a hundred dollar prize.

Jack wrote down “Trevor” next to “dessert” and the crowd collectively groaned while Trevor pumped a fist in the air. “Fuck yeah!”

Geoff pulled out another two cards from the hats. “Alfredo, salad.” Jack wrote “Alfredo” next to “salad”.

Alfredo wiped a hand from his forehead. “Alright. Easy enough. I can do that.”

“Michael… Appetizer!” Geoff raised the tickets in the air and Jack wrote “Michael” next to “Appetizer”.

Lindsay threw both her hands into the air and whipped around to flip everyone off. “Fuck yeah! Hope you all like oven-baked hors d'oeuvres like I do because he does  _ not _ know how to make anything else!”

“Ooh.” Trevor lit up, gripping his hands. “I love those. Barbara and I make those all the time.”

“Case and point!”

“Hey!” Geoff snapped his fingers. “Fuckwads, pay attention. Jeremy. Main Course.”

Jeremy pressed his palms against his cheeks. “No way. Shit.”

“Ryan. Drinks.”

Ryan raised his hands in the air. “Diet Coke for everyone!” Followed immediately by a collective groan. “C’mon, you can’t think I’m  _ that _ much of a monster,” he chuckled, yet still hiding behind his can.

“Lindsay. Also Main Course.”

Lindsay smiled tightly. “Hm? What?”

Over the sound of Geoff’s announcing voice, Jeremy slid next to Ryan. “So. Drinks, huh?”

“No, we’re not switching.”

“C’mon!”

“No!  _ You _ c’mon! I have three dogs and a kid!” Ryan folded his arms, though still keeping the can upright in his left hand. “You expect me to make a main course for all you fuckwads when I got  _ that _ much responsibility?”

Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows, taking a moment to double-check his memory. “I thought you have  _ two _ dogs and  _ three _ kids.”

Ryan paused, considering for a moment, then suggested (more than said), “Well,  _ one _ of them is kinda like a dog…?”

“So, what happened to the third dog?”

Ryan gestured a wide shrug. “Obviously, it became a kid!”

Geoff cut in. “Jack, also Salad.”

“Yes,” whispered Jack, signing his name next to Alfredo’s. 

“Gavin, also dessert.”

A silence fell over the crowd… then Trevor huffed. “Dammit.”

“Shifty Larry… Oh! Game duty!”

“Rigged!” yelled Jeremy.

Geoff pulled out the last two cards. “And finally, Geoff… Soup?” He paused. “What? Soup? The fuck kinda potluck is this?”

Yet, next to “Soup”, Jack wrote “Geoff”. While Geoff stood dumbly for a moment, as if attempting to recall how soup was made, Alfredo wrinkled his nose and tilted his head. “Wait. What about Matt and Fiona?”

Geoff hesitated, biting his lower lip. “They’re bringing, uh, party supplies.” Everyone collectively nodded in agreement. “Alright! Dismissed! See you all Sunday!”

“Wait,” Fiona raised her hands, stopping Geoff from leaving the stage. “ _ why _ are we only given two days to prepare for the annual office potluck? Didn’t we fix this last year?”

“We also amended it the year before,” Jeremy mused. “And I think the year before that.”

Geoff shrugged. “Right. Then we’ll amend it again this year. Dismissed.”

Buzzing, the crowd kind of imploded and then separated into an array of conversation. Jeremy slid back over to Ryan. “So, about those drinks.”

Ryan sighed. “No, Jeremy, I’m pretty sure I can figure out alcoholic beverages before I can figure out how to make a main course dinner for that many people with two kids and a cat.”

“I thought you had  _ two _ cats,” Lindsay said, sliding into their conversation. “I remember that very specifically.” She didn’t continue her sentence, just letting it hang in the air… for a bit… Ryan waved his hand in front of her face. “Lindsay?”

“Yes?”

“Is that it?”

“Yes. No!” Lindsay snapped her fingers. “Ry, I know you got drinks and it’s the easiest but most expensive job, but if you switch with me, it’ll give you a chance to make a cool dinner with  _ Jeremy _ , your Battle Buddy! --- who is way,  _ way _ better at cooking than me. I mean, Michael does all the cooking at our house.” She paused then shook her head. “No, he doesn’t. Neither of us cook. I don’t know how we’re still alive.”

Jeremy jabbed a finger at the air. “Then it’s a  _ learning _ opportunity… Probably… Besides, Kat would  _ kill _ me if I have to make the main course for the  _ second _ year in a row. God, she was so patient with me...”

Ryan waved them off. “ _ Not _ my problem! Go bother someone else.” A beat, and then a bit of a smirk. Slowly, he turned around. “Actually, you know what?” Lindsay and Jeremy exchanged glances then eyed Ryan suspiciously. “I have an idea. Whichever one of you switches with someone  _ else  _ first, the loser can switch with me.” Jeremy and Lindsay slowly turned to each other and then bolted towards Trevor simultaneously. Ryan laughed and shook his head. “Suckers.”

* * *

“We can’t let Trevor know,” Gavin whispered as he and Michael shoved Trevor’s broken monitor into that corner with all the stuff and laid a blanket over it all. “If we hurry, we might be able to get the Dell monitor from someone and back before the potluck arrangement---”

“---is over!” yelled Trevor as he burst into the room with a panicked Lindsay and Jeremy trailing behind him. “I will not trade dessert for the main course and that is  _ final _ !”

Gavin panicked and ran in front of Trevor, blocking him from moving around the U to his desk. “Hey! Trevor, good ol’ Treyco.” He opened his arms. “Yeah! Uh, how did the, uh, announcement thing go?”

“Right!” Trevor began excitedly. “Well, I got dessert and everyone’s trying to trade ---  _ as usual _ .” He scoffed, rolling his eyes in exactly the way a mother talking about her rambunctious sons would.

He kind of winked at Gavin, who just smiled as best he could and nodded. “Well, that--- that’s great,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me every…  _ single _ detail about it, Trevor?”

“Yeah,” added Jeremy, inserting himself into the circle on one side of Gavin.

Lindsay popped up on the other side. “And then we can discuss placements. Don’t you think I’d fuck up main course the most?”

“No, no, I’d be  _ way _ worse,” Jeremy said. “Lindsay is amazing! She is capable of such…” He paused for a weirdly long time. “... _ interesting _ choices.”

“But of course,” Lindsay argued. “Jeremy can put a lasagna in the oven.” She laughed. “I can’t--- I  _ couldn’t _ ! It--- It’s too dangerous.”

“Hey!” Trevor snapped, earning everyone’s attention, except for Michael, who was sneaking out the door behind him. “I see what’s going on here.” Everyone froze… including Michael, who was...  _ sneaking out the door behind him _ … Trevor put his hands on his hips. “You all want to know what’s best for the Achievement Hunter potluck and who  _ really _ should be in charge of what.” He lowered himself into the sofa; Gavin stepped between him and his desk, praying he wouldn’t notice the empty space there. “Alright. Let’s discuss. Who would be the best at the first course: Appetizer?”

A tense silence fell between Jeremy, Lindsay, and Gavin as they stood before a thoughtful Trevor. “Well,” Lindsay said hesitantly. “O-Obviously, Michael. You know, because of the, uh, oven-baked hors d'oeuvres.”

“Right!” Trevor jumped up and crossed to the whiteboard; Gavin scrambled to stay between him and the desk and Jeremy and Lindsay followed suit. Trevor wrote down the courses and wrote “Michael” under “Appetizer”. “Alright! Who else?”

Michael stood at the door, gesturing but unable to catch either Lindsay or Gavin’s attention. Eventually, he gave up and trotted into the hall.

He was alone for most of his five steps towards the Team B Room and then Ryan rounded the corner. Michael straightened, stiff as a board and as unreadable as can be. “Hey, Ry.”

“Michael,” said Ryan, almost passing, and then stopping. “Oh. Do you know you’re on Appetizer duty for the potluck?”

Michael hesitated, considered, and then shrugged. “Yeah, kinda. What did you get?”

Ryan puffed his chest. “I’m on drinks.”

“Oh.” A forced laugh; a forced smile. “Yup, yeah, sounds… like fun. You, Ryan the Doesn’t Drink Alcohol Guy.”

“But, if I’m honest, I don’t think anyone believes in me.” Ryan scratched his nail against his cheek. “Both Jeremy  _ and _ Lindsay wanted to trade with me, but I’m sure I can handle it.”

“What are you planning on bringing?”

“Fireball Whiskey.” Michael laughed at first and then stopped when he realised Ryan didn’t think it was funny. Instead, he stood there, with a Diet Coke, huffing and crossing his arms. “What?”

Michael shook his head. “What are you, fifteen? Fireball Whiskey? C’mon.” Michael set a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Okay. Listen, if anyone asks, you’re getting either the Kraken, Crown Royal, or Murphy’s Law. Or, fruit juice spiked with vodka. Everyone will agree with that.”

Ryan nodded. “Okay. Easy enough.”

A beat, and then Michael smiled. “Alright. I helped you, you help me. I need a Dell monitor and I can’t have you ask any questions.”

Ryan squinted an eye but nodded. “Fine,” he said. He looked over his shoulders to make sure no one was around, and then he said, “Come with me.”

Without hesitation, Michael followed.

* * *

Trevor wrote ‘Geoff’ next to ‘Main Course’. “Now,” he said. “Here is why I nominate Geoff for main course.” He shrugged a gesture at Gavin, Lindsay, and Jeremy, whom all shared uncertain glances amongst each other. “Geoff has an amazing overall sense of the potluck. He knows what everyone’s gonna make, he knows how to bring it all together, right? Also, he makes a very delicious pot roast.”

Gavin nodded. “Yeah, Geoff does make a damn good pot roast.”

“But everyone’s already been assigned their roles.” Lindsay shrugged. “So, like, we can’t do anything other than just trade what we have, right? So, Trevor, you should totally switch roles with Jeremy.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed, pointedly glaring Lindsay down with a smile. “ _ You’d _ be  _ much better _ at dessert.”

“No,  _ I’m _ better at dessert!” Trevor put his hands on his hips. “I am not going to switch roles with either of you! I  _ like _ dessert. I should  _ not _ be in charge of the main course!” He set down the white board marker and started for his desk, to which Gavin leapt in front of him and spun him around so he was facing Lindsay and Jeremy again.

For an awkward moment, they all looked at Gavin, who then gestured to the whiteboard. “But have you considered…? Maybe you  _ are _ the one who should take over the main course.”

“I am?”

“He is?”

Gavin pursed his lips and stared down Lindsay and Jeremy. “Yes,” he seethed before turning to Trevor and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “and all three of us know exactly why you should take over the main course.” A beat, an open-ended sentence… Gavin gestured to Jeremy. “Jeremy, you go first.”

“Me!?” Jeremy stammered, just catching Trevor’s offended expression on the corner of his eye, and then he laughed again. “Me-Me-Meat! Meat, right, none of us are vegetarian… I think… So obviously you’d pick some delicious meat.”

Gavin took a big breath; Lindsay looked down to hide her face; Trevor nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Go on.”

“Well, you said Geoff should be on main course, cause he understands the potluck and what everyone’s bringing and how to bring it all together…” Words were falling out Jeremy’s face faster than he could think and when he ran out of things to say, he just blurted out; “So you should make a pot roast!”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah,” he said, fondness growing on his expression. “Yeah, I  _ should _ make a pot roast!” He put his hands on his hips and smiled. “Thanks, guys! I think you really helped me find my true calling as a pot roaster.”

Lindsay clasped her hands together. “Yes, and since Jeremy was the one who helped you make your decision, you should trade with Jeremy so he can have dessert.”

Trevor opened his mouth to agree, but Jeremy cut in first; “No way! What? You think I don’t want to make a pot roast with Trevor? Nah, man, you can trade with Lindsay. Besides, she already has to do Michael’s thing, too.”

“Fuck Michael!” Lindsay snapped. “He can make his own Goddamn appetizers.”

“We should definitely stand exactly where we are,” Gavin interjected quickly. “And discuss at full length which one of you should make the pot roast with Trevor.” A beat, then a dawning realisation. “Actually. I have an idea. We should totally have a competition to decide who should be Trevor’s assistance making the pot roast! C’mon, lads, no time to lose, chop chop, to the hall!”

He pushed Trevor towards the door, which Jeremy had to laugh at because they collectively looked like a spider made only of left legs, and he and Lindsay followed suit.

* * *

“So, what have we learned so far?” Michael asked.

“Bring whiskey for the degenerates,” Ryan began. “wine for the classy people, and ‘assorted pop’ for the designated drivers.”

“Yes. And what do you say when someone asks what kind of whiskey and wine you're bringing?”

“Canadian.”

“Yes. Good.” A beat as Michael glanced at his surroundings. “Hey, where are we going?”

Ryan led him to an unmarked door in Stage Five, rapping his knuckles on the door four times in a rhythmic pattern. A pause. The door opened and Joel’s face peaked out. “What is it?”

“We have a Code Tango,” said Ryan. “Also, do you have a spare Dell monitor? Gavin broke Trevor’s and we’re trying to replace it before he finds out.”

Behind him, Michael shook his head in disbelief. “Sure,” said Joel. He disappeared behind the door, blocking all the view into his office before he returned with a monitor. “This should do. The mouse howls at a strawberry moon.”

“Southward crows cross equator lines.”

“By the way.”

“By the way.”

“What the fuck?” Joel and Ryan turned to Michael, who had his arms out at his sides. “What the hell is going on?”

Ryan shrugged. “Work stuff. Now, let’s go replace Trevor’s monitor.”

Joel shut the door and Ryan pushed back Michael before he had a chance to question anything else. He shook his head and reluctantly followed Ryan.

* * *

Gavin didn’t know where to stand in the Play Pals recording room because Trevor’s desk was still visible outside that glass window (and he definitely forgot that stupid window was there). His attention was on the monitors for now, as Jeremy and Lindsay got themselves all set up in Mario Kart. “So, rules are easy!” Trevor chirped. “Rainbow road, on hard. Whoever gets the highest place between the two of you gets to make the pot roast with me.” Trevor leaned back and put his hands on his hips. “This is such a great idea, Gav. You’re a genius.”

“Well, work best under pressure, don’t I?”

Trevor cocked an eyebrow. “Under pressure? What pressure?”

Gavin froze. “Uh… The pressure of a great potluck. Obviously.”

“Since when did you care about how well the potluck goes? All you do is eat the appetizers and get smashed with Michael.”

“Shut up, the race is starting.”

Jeremy shifted close to Lindsay, lowering his voice. “So, we’re racing to… help Trevor with the pot roast, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay.” A pause. He slammed on the gas until the light turned green and his character spun out. “ _ Whoops _ .”

Lindsay furrowed his eyebrows, and then it clicked. “You mother _ fucker _ !” she snapped, driving her character off the side of the road. “No! No one can lose like me. I am the ultimate loser!”

“God, shut up,” Jeremy muttered, “and just win the stupid game already.”

Trevor frowned. “I feel like maybe they  _ don’t _ want to make a pot roast with me,” he muttered.

“What?” Gavin laughed. “That’s impossible. Of course they want to, they just really,  _ really _ suck at Mario Kart.”

“Hm.”

Gavin put a knuckle against his lip, casting a casual gaze to Trevor’s desk… as Michael and Ryan sneaked into view with a new Dell monitor under Ryan’s arm. Trevor’s eye was halfway drawn to the movement --- so Gavin screamed, loud, sudden, and horrified. Trevor jumped and whipped around, a hand on his chest. “What the shit, Gav?”

The scream devolved into a forced laugh. “Yeah, yeah, uh, just, uh, just was watching the race. God, Jeremy, you are the worst. Have you always been this bad?”

“Yes,” Jeremy said. “Always.”

Over Trevor’s shoulder, Ryan was scrambling under Trevor’s desk and Michael was bent over it and they fed wires through the back behind the desk. “So, uh, Trev,” Gavin continued. “you, uh, you’re--- What’re you gonna make for your pot roast?”

“Oh, yeah! I got an idea when we first started setting up Mario Kart.” He started turning around. “It’s in my back pocket---”

“No!”

Trevor turned back and made a face.

Michael scrambled to stab the cords into the right place and Ryan fished them from under the desk.

“You should---” Gavin gasped. “You should look at me!” Then he started flailing his limbs around in a very bizarre dance that everyone had to stop and appreciate because what the fucking fuck? “For at least five, four, three---”

Finally, Trevor followed Gavin’s gaze over his shoulder into the main office. Michael hit the ground; Ryan posed like a sexy tree with a can of diet Coke.

The monitor was on the desk like nothing ever happened.

Trevor peaked over the window sill at the laying Michael, frowning. “What’re you doing on the ground, Michael?”

“Oh, you know, just hangin’ out,” Michael said. He pushed himself to his feet and came up to the window, frowning at Lindsay and Jeremy stalled their game still, crashing into everything and generally fucking things up. He squinted and frowned and he and Ryan came around into the recording room so they could actually talk. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Lindsay and Jeremy are racing to…” Gavin pursed his lips. “You know, I’m not sure anymore.”

“They’re racing to decide who gets to work with me to make the pot roast!” Trevor explained. “Though, this is taking decidedly a lot longer than I was expecting.”

“That’s it.” Michael reached forward and shut off the Switch. 

Lindsay and Jeremy each recoiled with frustration. “C’mon!” Jeremy whined. “I was just about to  _ lose _ !”

“What the hell is going on?”

No one said anything for a half-second, then Ryan nodded. “Oh, I see, this is about the potluck, right? You both got the main course and immediately tried to shirk dinner duties onto someone else.”

“Wait.” Trevor frowned. “So, neither of you  _ really _ thought I would make a good pot roast, did you?”

“I thought you would!” Jeremy said, then he lowered his head a bit. “I just didn’t want to make dinner for the second year in a row.”

Lindsay threw her hands in the air. “And I can’t cook! I’m totally going to ruin this potluck!” She landed her hands on her thighs and sighed. “It’s not that we don’t want to make dinner with you, Trevor. It’s just that we don’t want to make dinner at all.”

“Fine!” Michael rolled his eyes. “Lindsay, you can switch with me --- and Jeremy, you can switch with Trevor. There. Does that make everyone happy?” There was a collective consideration and then they all nodded. “Okay. This has been the stupidest day ever, I’m going home.”

Trevor made an excited fist as Michael opened the streaming room door. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow to make that pot roast?”

“What? No.” He turned around, almost offended. “I’m just gonna hire a fucking caterer. I’m not cooking for a  _ work potluck _ . Are you fucking stupid?” He shook his head in disbelief, shutting the door behind him on the way out.

Trevor sighed and turned back to the main room, then frowned through the window. “Why is there a moonball under Ryan’s desk?”

“What moonball?”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna chat? I'm at whitakerwrites.tumblr.com.


End file.
